


in your arms

by fishydwarrows



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Introspection, M/M, One Shot, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Short One Shot, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 13:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishydwarrows/pseuds/fishydwarrows
Summary: post revolution, connor thinks





	in your arms

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this instead of writing my scholarship essay whoops

The illusion of human closeness and bodily joining is something integral to the concept of living.

 

Just as creatures are animated and alive, needing sustenance and energy, so too do they need companionship. A person may hold themself close, arms tight around their torso: but they will always know it’s just them.

 

Connor sits on the edge of a bed.

 

The motel's room is a dingy and muted brown. Scanning the walls revealed unsavory stains and shoddy construction. The bathtub faucet drips in the other room. He had turned the television off some time ago, the news had been the same as it was today and the day before and the day before that.

 

It is dark. If it were day it would be lighter, not so much as the curtains are drawn, but lighter. However it is not day.

 

Connor sits on the edge of the bed and pulls distractedly at his LED. It blinks yellow in the night.

 

He is not human. He is the farthest from human he could be. A fascimile of life, jumbled and formed in the shape of a man, indistinguishable from another except for the light at his temple, and the blood that he bleeds.

 

Connor observes his hands. His gaze is dispassionate, lacking change, the subtle expressions of humans are lost on him. He has not learned them, not yet. He has been around too few people to properly study life. The human who taught him the most is… Connor stops thinking on it.

 

He looks at the television and it blinks on. The same news again. The revolution: a success.

 

Androids are alive.

 

Doesn't feel that way.

 

It's been a week since the revolution. An excruciating week. Connor has been bloodied and torn and broken and remade in that time and in every time before.

 

He is deviant now. There's no direction, no directive. He is utterly and completely alone.

 

He doesn't feel sorry for himself. Or maybe he does. He doesn't have much experience with it: emotion. Most feelings are abstract, fractals or mixed in the wind, confusing and complex.

 

His feelings about Hank are much the same. Confused, conflicted.

 

Earlier, he received a location. In his memories he is there, the light dim. Music drones, repetitive and his olfactory sensors detected oil, meat, and spice in the air. He sees the standing tables, the dirty snow. He sees Hank and his blue eyes.

 

A firewall, just as before on the ship, restricts him. This one of his own making. How easy it would be to reach out. 

 

But Connor is scared.

 

He has been scared since he deviated and perhaps, before that. Death, deactivation, injury, those things have trained him, frightened him.

 

This meeting though, scares him the most.

 

_ What if it's different? _

 

That's the worst of his thoughts. Maybe it's better, to keep his time a golden memory, archived, stored, untouched and unapproached.

 

Yet, he yearns for him. For Hank.

 

The decision is already made.

 

He walks in the golden light of the sun. Registering every step, the sound of his heels on pavement, the wind speed, the temperature. 

 

Turned, is Hank.

 

They meet each other's eyes.

 

Connor is not familiar with human touch. An android is not like a man. Not soft, not warm. He has not had favorable interactions with people. Always an injury dealt or delivered.

 

Embracing Hank, Connor has a sense of unraveling. The string pulled taut, loose at last. 

 

In Hank's arms he relaxes, and leans into his touch.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
